


Divided

by orphan_account



Series: Lullabye [22]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mild Angst, y'all know the drill by now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6869848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic I've been promising to write on my blog:<br/><em> Pete realises with a start what has happened. Patrick might be small, but some parts of him... aren't. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Divided

**Author's Note:**

> vice versa sequel coming soon and also hopefully another sequel to oh so intricate. thanks to iva for the beta and to everyone who reads this! i hope you're all okay, please enjoy this!  
> // prompt me at saverockandsoulpvnk on tumblr and read snippets/short fics posted there:) \\\

“Petey!”

Pete woke up and turned around, surprised to see the normal-sized Patrick that never ever called him by that nickname.   
“What do you want,” Pete sighed. He could've done with some of that childish innocence and joy just then, but Patrick was unrelentingly still an adult.

Patrick crawled onto Pete and pressed his forehead to Pete’s chest, his favourite move when he was small. The weight of an entire adult human on Pete’s front knocked the wind out of him and he began to protest.

“Patrick!” he hissed irritatedly, kicking his legs.

“Hey, owie!” Patrick whimpered, rolling off. “Meanie.”

“Dude, what the fuck is up?” Pete groaned, rolling over to check that, yes, Patrick was definitely not small.  
With a raptor screech, Patrick pinched Pete's arm in fury. That was the moment bile rose in Pete's throat and he sat up.  
“Ricky? Ricky, honey,” Pete nudged Patrick again urgently. “Baby, look at you.”

Patrick cocked his head and tried to get back to his old position until Pete slowly linked their hands and brought them into Patrick's eyeline. Patrick's eyes widened almost comically and he looked rapidly between Pete and their linked hands, lip trembling.  
“...Petey?” he whimpered, terror seared across his face as he gaped desperately at his boyfriend.

Pete's brain was still hurriedly making connections when his arms decided to take control and reach to envelope Patrick. He was heavy and trying to handle him like Pete always would when he was physically small was difficult, but Pete managed to do it. Then he rolled across the bed without letting go of Patrick’s hand and got them nicely tangled up. Patrick's breathing quickly slowed after that and the threat of tears dissipated with it.

“You'll live,” Pete promised, stroking circles on Patrick's back, “Just a day, right? We'll get through it.”

 

***

Patrick was more than clingy while they got dressed. Pete always loved to be followed around and clung to by a whiny Patrick, but it wasn't doing his back any favours in the current circumstances. Patrick tried to climb into Pete's arms multiple times, looking heartbroken every time Pete gently pushed him off and kissed his cheek, reminding him that he couldn't do that right now.

Every time he walked in front of a mirror, he wrinkled his face up doubtfully. Once, he stopped completely and spent a few minutes frowning at himself until Pete came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his stomach as he blew raspberries into his neck. Patrick giggled and broke his own mirrored gaze, and Pete breathed a relieved sigh.

He didn't like the idea of having to wear grown up clothes, but was eventually satisfied with a stolen shirt of Pete's that he refused to let go of until Pete put it on him. He sucked his stomach in doubtfully in front of the mirror, at which the older man waved an exasperated hand and stroked Patrick's hair into a reasonable degree of normalcy until he heard a loud exhale and kissed Patrick's cheek proudly.

Stepping back, he regarded Patrick critically.   
“You look good, baby,” he giggled, hand running across the faint freckles on his boyfriend’s cheek. He took a deep breath.  
“Which is good, because we have to do an interview today.”

Pete swallowed loudly. His phone had reminded him earlier. Since Patrick was four days off, they'd scheduled the important publicity months earlier - and Pete had forgotten. It was too late to cancel anyway, but in emergencies, they had someone at the label who knew. The only problem was, they didn't have any visual evidence this time; to the casual observer, Patrick seemed perfectly fine, if a bit eccentric when he spoke.

He felt Patrick stiffen up.   
“Hey, silly bear, shh. I'm going to call someone and try and arrange for me to go by myself, okay? It'll be alright.”

Patrick nodded quietly into Pete's chest, gripping him shakily for a few more seconds.  
“The good thing about this,” he said eventually, “is I can hug you prop’ly. I like that.” As soon as he said it, he blushed and stepped away.  
Laughing, Pete pulled him back by his hand and pressed a kiss into his hair, which was now conveniently at head height.  
“I think all your hugs are awesome, Ricky,” he smiled, and caught a flash of pink cheeks as Patrick dived back into his chest for another hug.

***

Pete gnawed at his lip, one hand trying to control Patrick, who was attempting to control his own stress by clambering into Pete's lap. The older man sighed as he tried to keep hold of the phone in his hand while Patrick placed all of his weight on his knee.

“I know it's a big deal! What am I supposed to do? He's crying on the floor of my kitchen now, is that what you want?” He practically yelled at the person on the other line.

Patrick shuffled anxiously closer to his boyfriend. They'd gone with the story that Patrick had had some bad personal news and couldn't participate, but it wasn't sticking.

“Why does that even matter?” Pete huffed, fingers running absentmindedly through Patrick's hair, relaxing instinctively when Patrick sighed happily and leaned back, “I'll be there. The band is being represented, who cares if there's one more person or not?”

It continued in this vein for some time. Pete's voice kept getting louder and louder until Patrick started to cower like a puppy and Pete, petting his hair comfortingly, gave in. He was reminded of the address and hung up on, left to deal with the quivering sort-of-child now clinging to his shirt.  
“‘Scared, Petey,” Patrick whimpered. “Can't.”

“Hey, baby,” Pete said, “Full sentences, please?”  
He wanted to stop Patrick devolving into incomprehensible, thumb sucking baby talk, especially not when he was probably going to have to do a radio interview in about an hour.   
Patrick nodded and drew his legs up towards himself, nearly knocking Pete out with his knee.  
Pete took his hand and looked him seriously in the eye.  
“I always look after you, don't I, kitten? We'll be fine, you stay quiet and I’ll answer the questions. Just don't suck your thumb.”

***

Pete laughed in the car when Patrick made multiple attempts to squish himself into the car seat in the back of the car before piling himself into the passenger seat with a confused frown. He laughed when Patrick sang along in his odd, strained voice that sounded exactly like what it was - a child (mostly) controlling an adult’s vocal chords - and quickly tired himself out, resting his head on Pete's shoulder with a pleased smile.

But in the radio station’s waiting room, he felt close to despair every time Patrick got halfway from his chair and into Pete’s lap and then stopped. With a dazed look in his eyes, he surged to his feet, somewhere after the third time he remembered. He stood, blinking at the room, and stumbled forward a few steps before coming up short and half falling to the floor.

Pete tensed as he sat, frozen with his legs sprawled underneath him, and prayed. It half-worked; instead of loudly screaming, Patrick just bit down hard on his lip and squinted his eyes shut as silent tears ran down his face.

Immediately, Pete got up and tried covertly to go to him. He got to the floor himself and tried to wrap Patrick up as tightly as he would when his body was small too. It was hard not to kiss Patrick's hair and then every single tear on his cheeks, but Pete just squeezed him in a way that he hoped wasn't overly familiar, and started to unzip his backpack.  
“They're staring at me,” Patrick sobbed, “everyone's looking at me they're gonna yell at me they think I’m weird I'll get kicked out and they'll write about it in all the newspapers and everyone will hate me.”

Only one person except Pete was really looking away from their phone, and Pete just mouthed ‘family emergency’ and they quickly turned away.   
Pete shifted so Patrick was sat between Pete’s thighs and guided his head back to rest on Pete's chest, circling an arm around his waist.   
“No one’s looking at you, Patrick,” Pete said calmly.

When Patrick finally stopped squirming and settled back, Pete retrieved Patrick’s toy cat from his backpack.   
“Look, Ricky, Pumpkin’s worried about you,” Pete teased, making the stuffed toy’s faintly stained head wiggle worriedly. Raising an eyebrow, Patrick lifted a hand to bat the toy away but Pete coaxed him back into a relaxed slump and placed Pumpkin in his lap.

“I shouldn't-” Patrick cut himself off awkwardly, shifting and settling and then shifting again repeatedly. “I'm too big for that, I’ll look dumb.”  
Pete giggled, smooching Patrick's cheek loudly and obviously enough to make him squirm. “Oh dear, baby boy, you're not happy about this, are you?”

With a laboured sigh, Patrick shook his head. “No, Petey. I wanna go home- or get some ice cream, I guess, but the stinky label and stinky you are making me be here,” he whined, nose turning up.  
“It's mean to call people stinky, Ricky. Anyway, none of this is my fault. Come on, we’ve got like ten minutes and then we’re on, and then we can go home.”

Trying to look nonchalant, Patrick shrugged roughly and brushed the lingering tears from his face. His eyes were still slightly red and squinty, but Pete didn't think anyone would notice, so he pulled Patrick to his feet and wrapped a small blanket from the backpack around his shoulders.  
Patrick sighed contentedly and started to lean into Pete's shoulder.

“Woaaah,” Pete shook his head warningly, guiding Patrick's thumb from his mouth before it made it halfway. “We don’t do that ever, love, but especially not right now.”  
Sighing, Patrick nodded his agreement and sat on his hand, crossing his legs. He was almost asleep against Pete's side by the time their names were called.

***

“So yeah, it's just been awesome, really, to get to do what we do. Patrick and I were just saying how lucky we are, you know? Like you get all these people in our position complaining about the Internet and the lack of privacy and the pressure and that's there and at times that sucks, but at the end of the day we do what we love with the people we love and we’re so grateful for that, right, Patrick?”   
Pete nudged Patrick sharply and snapped him out of a daze just before his thumb got noticeably close to his mouth.

“Um!” Patrick squeaked and sat up quickly, “Yeah, it's, it's awesome. Pete- Pete and I, and the rest of the guys, we’re super lucky.”  
Pete could feel Patrick's nervous breathing as he spoke and squeezed his leg tightly under the table, turning to him and grinning proudly, resisting the urge to kiss him right there and tell him how proud he was.

He received a small, pleased smile in return before turning back to the interviewer. Patrick sat quietly as Pete talked, squeezing his hand from time to time. But as minutes wore on, Patrick started to shift restlessly on the couch, jiggling his legs up and down. Nervously, Pete placed a hand over them and pushed gently until Patrick stopped, now frowning grumpily.

Another five minutes and Patrick was making small impatient grunts every time the interviewer asked a new question, rolling his eyes when Pete started to speak; five after that and his legs were kicking noisily against the chair; another five, as Pete hurried to wrap up, and he was humming loudly and almost bouncing off his seat while trying to pile himself closer to Pete.

“Well, thanks for having us!” Pete said brightly, when the interviewer finally dismissed them. “It's been great talking to you, hasn't it, Patrick?”  
Pete's heart skipped when Patrick's jaw tightened and his eyes squeezed into small, angrily glittering things. His mouth opened on a ‘no’ but seeing Pete's warning look, he clamped it shut and nodded reluctantly. Once Pete started to get to his feet, Patrick jumped up and dashed out of the door faster than Pete's eyes could follow.

“Crap, I'm so sorry about that. He's having a family crisis right now and he's waiting on some news,” Pete apologised, hurrying out after Patrick.

***

Fortunately, Patrick wasn't too difficult to find. As soon as he got outside into the cool Chicago air, Pete could hear the loud slapping of Patrick's feet against the sidewalk he was lying facedown on.

The back of the radio station was empty, so no one was staring, at least, as Pete rushed to Patrick's side and crouched beside him.

“Aww, baby, honey, ‘Tricky,” he whispered. Instantly, Patrick stilled and let Pete turn him over, brushing slightly sticky hair away from his face. Patrick's brows went down,wrinkling up his forehead   
“Mmph- fine,” he grumbled and heaved himself up without assistance.

Watching his fingers seep through Patrick’s hair, Pete laughed. “Alright, you big boy, you sure?”  
He felt Patrick's hand slip into his. It was warm and large but it clung tightly just like its half-sized counterpart and twitched with the energy that was almost always rippling through the boy who owned it.

“Yes, Petey, I'm sure. I hated that, though,” he blurted, leaning shyly into Pete's side as they walked. When he started trying to skip, Pete hung back and forced him to slow down.

“Hey, Ricky, I'm sure it wasn't that bad.” Although it had been unavoidable, Pete couldn't help feeling a surge of guilt. Like the stubborn little thing he was, Patrick shook his head.

“Nuh-uh, it sucked, Petey,” he repeated. Blinking solemnly, he adds, “I'm pretty sure everyone there knew, so I was really really scared. And it was sooo boring.”

“Spoilt brat,” Pete said affectionately.  
He leant gently into Patrick, not putting much weight into it; whatever size he was right now, Pete thought of him as the tiny little kid inside who gaped when Pete carried more than one grocery bag and couldn't drag his own suitcase for more than a few feet. His need to protect Patrick often overwhelmed his own self preservation instinct.

The area wasn't that close to any of their usual hangouts in the city but they arrived in a taxi, which meant they could kill as much time as they wanted before Pete called one to get back. Mostly from attending parties in the area, Pete knew it well enough to, with some trial and error, guide them to a secluded park.

“You okay, squirt?” He asked. The feeling of Patrick drooping at his side was immediately obvious.

“Mm,” Patrick sighed noncommittally, but his eyes were large and sad.  
Since no one was around, Pete stopped in front of Patrick and gazed earnestly into his eyes.

He crouched down to bring himself down at what would be eye level with the usually tiny Patrick. Before he realised what he was doing, he found his face close to his boyfriend’s waist. While kneeling usually put him at head height with small Patrick, currently it put him in a position in which he was left to awkwardly stare up towards Patrick's hipbone. It was peeking out a little where Patricks ancient shirt was too small, and Pete had to fight the urge not to touch it, remembering who it belonged to at the moment.

“I can't play,” Patrick admitted, sagging, “People will stare and I might get kicked out of the playpark.”

“Ricky, there's no one here,” Pete pointed out and got up immediately, after realising what the situation would look like to an unsuspecting passerby.  
Patrick shook his head again.

“I'm a kid but I'm… not. Feels stupid.”

Pete looked at Patrick, only a couple of inches shorter than him, for a few more seconds and then he lunged at Patrick, taking him from under the legs. Once he established a good grip he hauled him up into bridal position. He didn't think his back could take much more in this situation, but an airborne Patrick was an airborne Patrick.

Pete caught a flash of red across Patrick's nose before he buried his face in the curve of Pete's shoulder as he giggled. The slap of his hand across Pete's bare arm that came after was probably harder than he’d intended, unaware of his own strength.

“Nooo,” he laughed weakly, but although his legs were kicking he didn't seem to be actually upset.   
Pete watched warily in case his notoriously awful temper turned.

“Ow, watch your hands please, Ricky,” he warned.  
He used his nose to scrub at Patrick's hair because his hands were full.  
Patrick gasped, regretting his actions and kissed Pete's shoulder where he’d hit, babbling apologies into the shirt.

“Alright, I appreciate it but you're kind of drooling on me now and it's getting a bit gross, love," his boyfriend said, stifling a chuckle.

Patrick whined and shifted so his head was more comfortable and clung to Pete for dear life.   
“I'm so heavy,” he complained, “You're gonna fall over ‘nd we'll both die.”

“What a way to go,” Pete laughed, kissing Patrick's pink cheek.

***

Pete was awoken pleasantly in the night by the feeling of a heavy weight on top of him. He quickly found himself unable to speak, the feeling of something against his mouth. After a moment of confusion he realised it was because Patrick was kissing him passionately, quietly gasping.

“Missed you,” his boyfriend groaned, “Missed this. Whatever of me is there- the bit that's still 20… whatever, I don't wanna get into philosophy - but I miss it. Kind of.”

There was a flash of a bashful smile and then Pete was being kissed again, Patrick’s attempt at trying to distract Pete from his terrible way with words. But Pete gave him a pass, he knew it wasn’t an easy topic to simply verbalise. He wanted to ask which of the two Patricks was in there, just to check, but that would most likely earn him the sofa. Besides, the noises Patrick was making didn't leave much room for doubt. 

 


End file.
